


The Warrior Casteless

by Felicia_Rottingstone



Series: The Rogue of Orzammar [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Character Study, Gen, the glory proving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 12:36:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20407858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felicia_Rottingstone/pseuds/Felicia_Rottingstone
Summary: Natia Brosca has a choice: fight or fail. It's not that she's afraid of failing. It's just that she really loves to fight.





	The Warrior Casteless

Natia Brosca lived by two rules: first, never second guess a decision. When she decided to do something, she was in, 100 percent, no hesitation, no backtracking. Second, never deny a desire. The world had told her no all her life; she wasn't going to add her own voice to the choir. 

Her first rule had got her in bed with the Carta, which was why she had made her way to the Proving Grounds that day. Her second rule had gotten her in bed with everyone else, including Everd, the stupid warrior now lying at her feet, drunker than a nug in Tapsters Tavern. This was inconvenient, seeing as he was supposed to be fighting in about ten minutes. 

It wasn't that she was particularly attached to Everd. He made for a fun time, but if he ran afoul of the Carta and got tossed into a lava pool, well, Natia could always find someone to replace him. No, the issue was that if he didn't fight and win, Beraht would blame her. Beraht always blamed her, and Natia didn't really feel like defending herself from that today. 

"Help me take off his armor," she told Leske, her longtime friend and partner in crime. 

"Why?" 

"I'm going to put it on." 

"Why?" Leske's second question was said with more alarm and suspicion. 

"Someone needs to win the Glory Proving,” she stated, as if her intentions were obvious to all but the particularly thick-headed.

“Yeah, Everd Bera needs to win,” he argued.

“No, everyone needs to think Everd wins,” she corrected. “And all I need to convince them is his armor and arms.”

“Is this some stupid ploy to win yourself a lover from the Warrior Cast?” Leske asked.

“What a sodding stupid thought,” she snapped back. “First, I already have a lover from the Warrior caste: this drunk dumb-ass. Second, noble hunting is Rica’s thing, not mine.”

Natia’s sister Rica had recently acquired herself a very mysterious, very rich patron. If she could bear him a son, she’d be set for life, her entire worth validated by her ability to give birth. If she bore him a daughter, however, she’d be as nug-cursed as she was now. Except worse, probably, because she’d be seen as a failed investment by Beraht.

“Maybe this isn’t a very good idea, Nat.”

“Maybe. We’ll see.” Natia pulled on the buckles on Everd’s armor. When Leske didn’t move to help her, she shot him a look. “You know Beraht will blame us if Everd doesn’t fight and win.”

“It’s not our fault he got too drunk!” he protested, but bent down to help her nonetheless. 

“Doesn’t matter. It’ll be us strung up by our toes. C’mon, what do you have to lose?”

“You’re right,” he finally said. “If you win, and no one notices, Beraht won’t kill us. And if you lose, or get caught, it’s only your ass on the line. I love the way you think.”

Natia picked up Everd’s helmet and put it on. “How do I look?”

“I can’t tell the difference,” he responded, eyeing me. “But you’re probably going to have to do something about your chest. Everd isn’t exactly well-endowed, if you know what I mean.”

“That’s an easy fix.” Natia unhooked the breastplate and settled it on her shoulders before rebuckling it. The solid plate of metal flattened her chest nicely and hid any other curves that might have given her away. When she was fully outfitted, she gave a twirl for Leske.

“Do I look pretty, Leske?” she teased.

“Uh, I’ve never had a thing for suits of armor.”

“You would if it were Rica wearing it.” He rolled his eyes in response.

“Rica’s too much of a lady to do half the stupid shit you try. I’ll go put the drug in Mainar’s water,” Leske said, then began to move toward the door. He froze when he heard the announcer.

“Bout three is next. Officer Mainar versus a warrior, Everd.”

“We don’t have time for that,” Natia hissed at him. “It doesn’t matter. I can win this on my own skills.”

“You’ve got a heart of steel, Salroka,” he responded, shaking his head at her in disbelief and awe. She grinned at him in reply.

“I can’t wait to show those nug-lovers what a Dust Town girl is capable of,” she growled, picking up Everd’s axe and shield.

“Yeah, just as long as they don’t actually find out you’re a girl from Dust Town,” he warned. “Keep your visor down. I’ll be in the trenches, but this is up to you now.”

“Don’t worry. I got this.”

True to her word, Natia did have it. Everd’s shield felt clunky on her arm, and she’d had to adapt her usual fighting style to account for only one blade, not two. Still, Mainar wasn’t half the warrior everyone seemed to think he was. He lasted only a minute against Natia before she knocked him to the ground so hard he’d had to be helped out of the arena.

Natia barely had time to breathe before she heard the second fight being called. This time, she faced Adalbo, the Journeyman Division Champion from the year before. Defeating Mainar was one thing, but Adalbo was still a formidable opponent, and Natia felt a pang of unease as she faced him for their bout. 

_ I should take a dive _ , she told herself.  _ I should go down early and limp off. Before someone realizes I don’t belong here, or Adalbo kills me. _ But the match began before she could convince herself, and the clang of his axe against Everd’s shield only made her dig in her heels and focus on the fight, all fears of discovery or loss replaced by the bloodlust that came in battle. He didn’t go down easy, but eventually, Natia prevailed, sweaty and breathing heavy, as Adalbo yielded.

While she waited for the third round to start, Natia studied the gathered crowd. The seat of honor had been given to a Grey Warden, a man eager to recruit for the coming Blight. If her life had been different, Natia had no doubt she’d be among those who sought to join his ranks. But she couldn’t leave Rica alone when Beraht still owned her debt. And anyway, casteless didn’t become Grey Wardens. Casteless didn’t become anything but riff-raff and cautionary tales.

The third round was called, and Natia found herself facing off against Lenka. Natia’s blood cooled as she faced the sturdy woman. Lenka was a Silent Sister-in-training. Having already cut out her tongue, Lenka said nothing, but Natia knew that this fight would be different. Lenka couldn’t lose and live, which meant one of them wouldn’t be walking out of here at all.

To Natia’s luck, Lenka was a dual-wielder, just like Natia. Whereas Everd wouldn’t have done much training against someone of her fighting style, Natia had. She knew Lenka’s moves before she made them, and knew how to counteract them. She wasn’t as quick, being bogged down with Everd’s heavy armor, but she could predict where Lenka’s blows and jabs would land and was able to block most of them. Natia couldn’t cut her, but she couldn’t cut Natia either.

The fight became a match of endurance. One of them would tire first, make a mistake first, leave an opening for the other to exploit. Natia had the disadvantage of being in heavy armor, fighting with unfamiliar weapons. That should have made her the first to tire. However, Natia was a Dust Town thug. She’d gone days without food or water, fighting for her life many times. She’d been trained by poverty and a harsh life how to push past fatigue and keep her mind sharp and her movements quick. Lenka had been trained by wealth to take a breather when she was tired.

It happened quickly. A poorly timed jab caused Lenka to hit Natia’s shield at an awkward angle, wrenching her dagger from her hand. The woman made the double mistake of letting her gaze follow the blade as it clattered to the ground some distance away. Natia saw her opening. She followed the movement of her shield with her whole body, twisting at her hips as she raised her sword, letting her momentum leverage the blade as it came swinging in an arc at Lenka’s neck. The dwarven steel cleaved the skin easily, and Lenka’s head detached from her shoulders to roll into the dust.

Lenka was hardly the first person Natia had killed. Her job demanded a certain level of lethality. But most of Natia’s kills had been others like her: casteless, desperate, and morally unconcerned. She’d never killed someone of a higher caste. She never even thought she could.

Natia’s moment to revel in the achievement was cut short. A commotion at the far end of the arena drew her attention, and she raised her gaze to see someone stumble through the doors in nothing but their smallclothes. At first, the sight was amusing, until she realized who it was. 

Everd. 

She was as good as dead.


End file.
